Logs:Mating Flights, Take 2
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| RL Date: 22 June, 2015 |
| Who: Quinlys, Yesia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys thinks Yesia needs another lecture. She may (or may not) be right. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'ris/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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| It's after classes, and more than a sevenday after Yesia's, uh, encounter with K'zin (or rather, K'zin's with Yesia) when Olveraeth spreads his stars out towards Aeaeth and invites, « Would yours come and see mine in her office, please? » As friendly as it is, there's a faint note of pressure there: it's not actually a request. The door to the office is open; inside, Quinlys can be seen sitting half cross-legged on her chair, one foot hooked up beneath her. There's a plate of cookies to her left, and a stack of paperwork to her right. She's smiling. It doesn't take much pressure to get Aeaeth to cave, though she sounds uncertain at best, her mind discordant tones in backdrops to her, « Of course. » Presently, Yesia appears in the doorway, gloves and helmet in hand, as if she's been caught just before she went to her weyr. Her polite smile has a hint of wariness as she knocks on the frame, despite the open door and summons. "Ma'am?" "Yesia, come on in. Have a cookie. And a seat. Close the door behind you." Quinlys delivers this list of, well, commands cheerfully, waving an expressive hand towards the plate of cookies, and then Yesia herself, and the door behind her. "I thought we might do a recap of one of our recent lectures. It seemed like it might be useful." Yesia looks extremely mistrustful of this offer of cookies and apparent kindness, but she listens. She's learned a little something in the past months, if not perfectly. The door is closed, the seat is claimed, but she waves off the cookies in case they're somehow not on the up. Like, poisoned or something. "I'm still full from lunch," is her explanation, though that was hours ago. "Which?" It's terribly deliberate, really, the way Quinlys reaches for a cookie for herself, and bites into it. Look, not dead! Still, Yesia's loss is Quinlys' gain, plainly, and anyway, she's more focused upon the weyrling herself. The rest of her cookie is set down beside her and she says, "Why don't you tell me what you know about flights." That lecture. Of course. The way Yesia arranges her expression is trained, polite perplexity with wide eyes. "K'zin told me," an important preface, "that she'll rise three or four times a year. And that she'll get proddy, but what that means will come up when it happens, just like...everything, I guess. And that she'll glow a little bit. And she'll fly and males will chase her, and when they catch I'll probably sleep with their rider. Whoever it is." Quinlys' smile is bland in the wake of mention of K'zin, and bland, too, as Yesia relates what she knows. "Let's start," she suggests, "at the beginning. One step at a time. You're right; she'll probably rise three or four times a year, and she'll very likely be over a turn old before she does so the first time. What are some of the indications of proddiness?" Yesia opens her mouth instantly to answer with preemptive confidence and then... closes it. "That..." she starts, sluggish while she tries to, apparently, critically think through it just ahead of her mouth. "She'll...act differently, I guess," is her eventual and lame answer. "From what I've heard," from limited sources, "it's different with every dragon." "True, but also..." Quinlys breaks off another piece of her cookie, popping it in her mouth before responding (even if that means her words come out around bits of cookie). "She'll glow. Every so often you'll get a green who rises with very little warning, but most of the time... they glow. You'll also react differently. You might be grumpy," beat, "Grumpier. Or flirtier. Or simply confused and over-emotional. That doesn't mean it's an excuse for acting out, mind. As an old weyrlingmaster here used to say: proddy don't mean stupid. Once she's risen a couple of times, you'll probably find it quite predictable; you'll know what to expect. If you're lucky, she'll rise on a schedule, so you'll know when to expect it, too. A lot of greens fall in sync with their riders' fertility cycles, if on a more elongated cycle." "I already said that," Yesia says of the glowing, because she did and she's just that sort of girl that has to take credit. And she's completely affronted with grumpier, saying, "Hey, I'm not," however futile her argument might be. But she sits through the rest of it sullenly, nose wrinkling near the end. "Gross," she says, piecing it together a bit more thoroughly in her head. "I hope she doesn't. Because...sex. Gross," bears repeating, apparently. "I'm...pretty sure I have the important parts, ma'am." Which is to say, please let me leave. Smugger and smugger, Quinlys seems delightfully amused by Yesia's reaction to all of this: no, you don't get to leave. Not yet. "A lot of greenriders enjoy their flights," she remarks, cheerfully. "A lot of riders of male dragons enjoy the chase, too, and that happens generally a lot more often. Now, the day she rises, she may or may not go and feed in the feeding grounds. Queens always will, but some greens prefer to just throw themselves into the air. If she does, she'll probably be happy enough to just blood, and it doesn't matter if she eats: as long as she gets into the air, she won't run into problems. By that point, you will be part of her; you'll want to be chased, and eventually, want to be caught. We have a ground weyr set aside for the purpose; if you can't get their on your own steam, someone will help you. Don't let them crowd you: they will all want to get close, but you're still in charge." "K'zin said that," is of the first bit, of enjoyment. "He said it feels like...lust? But just that. And that sometimes it feels like wanting to dance?" It sounds like Yesia isn't wholly bought in on that point, and looks that way too, her frown settled. She finally surrenders for a possibly-tainted cookie, all the better to have something to focus on that isn't the smug face of the weyrlingmaster. She holds it over her lap and breaks it into small chunks, leaving crumbs on her pant legs, but doesn't bother eating more than a small bite. "What if she doesn't? Go up, I mean. Can she just...change her mind? Can I change her mind?" Something worse seems to cross her mind, too. "What if nobody chases her because of --" Because of her, presumably, but hey, she shoves a piece of cookie in her mouth instead, and unlike Quinlys, she doesn't talk with her mouth full. "It's... kind of impossible to describe. In the moment, there is nothing you want more than to sleep with that person." From Quinlys' perspective, anyway. Now that Yesia has taken a cookie, the weyrlingmaster seems to remember her own, picking up another piece of it. "She'll go up. It-- can happen that a green will start getting proddy and then stop, but that'll usually be because of illness, injury, or some kind of major upset. She probably won't get up when you're ill, but there's no guarantee of that. Olveraeth was sired in a flight that happened while Tiriana was, like, seven or eight months pregnant." She's more quiet when she adds, leaning forward slightly, "They'll chase. People who don't like you will chase. It's... not about personal feelings, in the moment. It's not a matter of thinking. It's... primal." "I can't imagine her feeling like that," Yesia asserts. "She's so...?" The word escapes her, probably because 'dim' is too unkind for someone she loves so much, however true it is. "It's not like her." She looks fretful about it. If she had a piece of paper, she'd be shredding it, but the next best thing is her cookie, which is being systematically torn to inedible crumbs. Yesia's purse of the lips substitutes where her frown would normally go, and she says, treading cautiously -- because she doesn't want it taken wrong in this context -- "Ah...K'zin said...well, that. I know everyone thinks I just sleep around, but...if it's primal. Lust, or whatever. That I should, ah -- practice?" The corners of Quinlys' mouth turn up slightly, a much more muted smile than her earlier, smugger one. "It happens to all of them, however unlikely it seems," she says, simply. "When the time comes... well. You've months, still, to get ready. I suggest talking to some greenriders about it, if you can." Her own cookie is abandoned, hands wiped on her trousers, as she continues. "He's right. You don't want to go to your first flight a virgin-- flight sex doesn't need to be rough, but it's not going to be slow and careful, either. K'zin and C'ris would be poor choices for that," she adds, not sharply but with emphasis. "But any of your clutchmates, or a more experienced rider whom you trust. If you need help finding someone, I can provide some names." It's being told no, before she's even made a suggestion, that has Yesia's slender eyebrows up with incredulity. Any other responses are gone, to favor "I don't know why. "I trust them, more than I'd trust some stranger you reccommend. Not that I don't trust your judgment," she adds, in a way that says she absolutely doesn't. "I don't trust anyone in this wing. Class. Whatever." That incredulous eyebrow-raise draws one in return from the elder redhead, as if to say 'Don't you think I know what happened with K'zin?' "I know you haven't made a lot of friends in this class," Quinlys allows. "So I do understand. Your weyrlingmasters, however, need to keep a certain amount of distance from you; they're your superiors. After you graduate..." She stops. Hastily, "You've a few months, at least; I suggest you start trying to get to know people outside your class. You'll be spending more time with the wings-- see if you can't get to know some more people there." Yesia crosses her arms defensively and owns up to nothing. "C'ris isn't even a weyrlingmaster, I thought," she challenges, her own brows still there. She won't be outdone in incredulity matches. "And what happens if she rises before we graduate?" Her tone turns grudging, at the suggestion. "Where would you suggest I start? Isn't it inappropriate for them to fraternize with us, too? If we're really pressing the issue of what's proper, that is." "C'ris," Quinlys allows, "is not officially part of the weyrlingmaster staff. But as he is in a position of assistance and support, I'd prefer he didn't fraternise." She's perfectly capable of matching incredulity with incredulity; the redhead battle continues. "It's very unlikely that she rises before graduation. Very unlikely." But not impossible, clearly, for all that she's so-quick to move on to, "They're not your superiors... unless you're intending to proposition the Weyrleader." Which would be gross, plainly. "I'd stick to wingriders. Join them for social events in the Snowasis, or engage people in conversation after drills. Be friendly." Yesia wants to mouth off so badly she's practically vibrating with it, her lips slightly parted and her eyes narrowed at Quinlys, like she's trying to burn a hole in her. She doesn't agree to the terms, which should probably be noted, but she does at least pull the most unpleasant face ever (in a series of extremely unpleasant faces in the months past) at the suggestion she'd proposition K'del. "Don't be --" she begins to order, but she remembers that might get her in trouble just in time, and curtails to, "Is there anything else?" Quinlys, thankfully(?), is simply amused. Heartily, breathtakingly amused. "Not at the moment," she says, cheerfully. "But if you think of anything, you know where to find me. Do talk to a greenrider, though. And if you ever do need that list..." "I don't," Yesia says, exhaling a grateful sigh and standing. Crumbs of one whole cookie fall from her lap, and she does a very good job of not noticing them. "I do. And I'll find one. Maybe Telavi." Because that would be smart, at this juncture. Her little sneer says plenty, but she still deigns, definitively, "I won't. May I be dismissed?" Mention of Telavi only brightens Quinlys' smile, but she doesn't comment on the greenrider in question, or the advisability of this venture. Nor does she comment on the crumbs, though surely she does see them, messing up her nice clean floor. "You may be dismissed," she agrees. "My goodness, that smile of yours certainly will draw in all your prospective deflowerers. Good luck with that!" Definitely dismissed; definitely sarcastic. Yesia huffs a breath out of her nose and proves she saw those crumbs by using her gloves to knock the rest off her lap. Take that. She doesn't even say goodbye, or thank you, just in case she lingers too long and Quinlys changes her mind. For all her complaining during calisthenics, she moves awfully quick when the mood strikes her. |
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Comments
Edyis (00:58, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
-snickers- Well worth the reading.
Alida (01:20, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
More sneering weyrlings giving Quinlys hell! I like it. ;) :D
T'mic (06:17, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
I wouldn't trust anyone in this weyrling class either. Sketchy bunch.
Yesia (10:04, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
.... *sudden realization*
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